As the Moon
by brytewolf
Summary: After a long day at work, Jim can't help but question Spock's feelings for him - he is a Vulcan, after all.


**A/N:** This was prompted by a picture, "Do you love me?" by MedicatedManiac on DeviantArt. She challenged viewers to make a fanfic to go along with it, and how could I resist? (I will link it on my profile page so people can check it out html in the chapter things suck :\ )

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As The Moon

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He should know. Undeniably, irrefutably, down to his very _bones_, he should know. After all, he's been in the guy's head, for Christ sakes.

But. He's never said it. Not once. And even though he's Captain Awesomepants, and the whole universe is his playground – those psychologists have something right. Cause after a couple decades of being told that no matter who your daddy is, you aren't going to be anything but a little shit, it kind of wears on your self-esteem.

Read: Jim doesn't have any. Oh, sure, he's great at bluffing it, at presenting a cocky attitude to anyone who cares to look in his direction. But inside? A squishy center of insecurity wrapped in dozens of layers of Awesomeness.

He does have a reputation, after all. He had to earn it someway. So, okay, he's not completely insecure – but when it comes to matters of feelings, and how people feel about _him_? As in, do they like him for him, or are they just here to get some of his star-power to rub off on them? Or, are they going to stick around for any length of time if they're not? He knows what his faults are, his glaring imperfections even though the press likes to pretend there aren't any.

He knows no one in their right mind would want to stick with him for very long, and deal with all this baggage he brings along. Especially not a Vulcan – the most logical race in the whole universe! And if Spock doesn't say it, that means he doesn't feel it – that whole not-lying thing means he can't otherwise – and that just opens the whole can of worms.

And it doesn't help when Jim looks at Nyota – so beautiful everyone in the Academy was trying to get in her short skirt for years, so smart she's the only one even remotely qualified to do the job she does. And that's just the beginning of her long list of qualifications. And what happened? _It wasn't enough_. Spock broke up with her, let her go, when no one in their right mind would leave someone that perfect.

And if she didn't have a chance, how could Jim possibly have one?

As if that wasn't enough, there's Bones. Constantly talking about how the hobgoblin doesn't have any emotions, can't feel _anything_, ever, so why is Jim kidding himself with this charade of a relationship? While Jim's capable of pushing off Bones' pestering a couple times, after a while it starts to chip away at his certainty. Especially when Bones' opinions so closely mirror Jim's own.

He buries his head in the pillow, trying to shut out the thoughts but knowing they're not going to disappear. He's stupid, stupid, stupid and he knows it. Their relationship is going perfectly, he's more in love than he has any right to be – he's been in the man's _head_, for god's sake, he knows how Spock feels about him.

It's only a matter of time before Jim fucks up this perfect thing they have going. And knowing himself – it's going to be sooner, rather than later.

The soft sound of fabric shifting in the bed alerts him that he's not alone. Being obstinate – but not quite wanting to admit why – he turns his head to the side, refusing to look at Spock.

The Vulcan hovers over Jim's prone form, the heat from his body welcome and comforting and achingly familiar. Jim can feel soft, sensitive fingers brush against his temple, then they disappear.

"Your thoughts and emotions are in turmoil. What has occurred, Jim?"

Stupid Vulcans and their stupid touch telepathy. It lets them cheat far too often.

He's never been one to run from an issue – even if it has a chance of destroying the best thing that's ever happened to him. He sighs, gathering himself.

"Do you love me?"

There. He said it.

Silence from Spock, as warm fingers thread their way through Jim's hair. And then Jim can feel a gentle kiss pressed against his temple, as his eyes mist over. He is not a baby – he will not cry, no way no how.

"As the moon cares for the ocean. There are no words, T'hy'la, for this emotion I feel for you. And it grows, each and every day."

Then, the tears flow. And he's not being a baby – he's a man, in love.


End file.
